


Woulda. Shoulda. Coulda.

by madamelibrarian



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Canonical Character Death, Grief, Grieving Dean, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Loss, M/M, POV First Person, Pining, Pining Dean, Regret, Regretful Dean, Season/Series 13 Spoilers, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 17:23:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12822384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamelibrarian/pseuds/madamelibrarian
Summary: Dean reflects on what he would have, should have and could have.





	Woulda. Shoulda. Coulda.

**Author's Note:**

> Holy crap! I've had writers block for so long I thought I'd never write anything again. Everything that I've been posting is stuff that was written and just needed proofed. A storage bank if you will. 
> 
> Of course the first thing I write is angst. Hopefully it doesn't punch you too hard.

I should’ve told you, Cas. But I was too damned scared to think it, let alone say it. There were so many opportunities that I let slip by. Instead I told you you were like a brother when I should’ve pulled that car over and kissed you. Then prayed you didn’t smack me for it. I should have been better at protecting you, which seems ridiculous. A human protecting an angel. You’d probably tell me to go screw myself, in your own way, and I’d love you a little more for it. 

I would’ve held you, if you asked. Didn’t you see me begging you with my eyes? Would you have understood what I really needed after all these years of pushing you away? I needed to hear it, Cas. To feel your arms around me and keeping my nightmares away. Telling me that the love of a broken, corrupted hunter was good enough for an angel and that I haven’t damned us both.  

We could’ve had a chance. I finally figured out the words to tell you what I really felt, but now there’s only silence when I pass your room. It’s a different kind than the silence that was there before. The space you filled had a hum to it. Almost like a tree full of bees on a hot summer day. It let me know you were coming back at some point. Now it’s still. Empty. Like all those tombs and graves I’ve burned through the years. It doesn’t matter how much music I listen to or beer I drink, the emptiness is still there. I could try to burn it away. If only I knew how to salt and burn my own heart.


End file.
